The Three Ghosts and the Holy Voices
by Night Strider
Summary: Just a story that attempts to find a role for Legolas in the Tragedy of the star-crossed lovers Amroth and Nimorodel. LegolasNimrodelAmroth. You’ll be surprised that he actually had a hand in it, at least in this fic.


The Three Ghosts and the Holy Voices

Disclaimer: Tolkien is the sole owner of the LOTR characters.

A/N: I've been itching to write LOTR fics since I finished the trilogy eight years ago; unfortunately for my under nourished self-esteem I never really got anything started. But after that long agonizing period I finally came up with a definite idea that has a resolution, so here it is: my first LOTR fic and probably my last. Just a few things before we kick things off; first of all, a different background is founded on this fic. In Tolkien's Unfinished Tales, there is a story that Amroth was the son of Galadriel and Celeborn so I'm going to borrow that context and not the one in the official story which tells that he was Amdir's son. Secondly, I will assume that Nimrodel was a Nandorin elf, meaning, a native of Middle Earth. And last is some sort of a warning; Nimrodel will be suffering from a Mary Sue syndrome here and I don't think there's much I can do to fix that. Enjoy reading.

Summary: Nothing. Just a story that attempts to find a role for Legolas in the Tragedy of the star-crossed lovers Amroth and Nimorodel. LegolasNimrodelAmroth. You'll be surprised that he actually had a hand in it, at least in this fic.

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It seemed trivial that Nimrodel should get all of a sudden melancholy at the daylight absence of nightingales, brooding and silent when all around her suggested otherwise. Those were the days when all else around her would receive nothing more than her indifference, their beauty ignored. Those were the days when Nimrodel would willingly lend an ear to the silver fall of the waters' hymns. How much she loved its songs, nobody could really tell. The twilight would appear in the next hours, but her eyes were somewhere else, beyond the forest's reach and her mind possibly above the clouds' extent. Later still she would be sought by those who loved her and it would take moments of persuasion before she honored their invitation and be taken away from the precious river side. If at all she had loved, this place she called home, the Great River Nimrodel, would be elevated above of them all.

Then as the late night crept in, a voice would call her name like the gentle sound of silver. It was Amroth, King of Cerin Amroth, one of the fairest cities in the magical realm of Lothlorien. Not seldom did these instances come to pass. Amroth son of Celeborn had loved Nimrodel for years of yore, and had already asked her hand in marriage.

This day Amroth's impulses were of a different mode and as he found the Lady by the usual spot, he immediately took her hand.

'Lady, would you come with me to the kingdom of the Tree Elves, the Golden Wood where my kin tarry? Beautiful things are to be found there; oh, Nimrodel, will you come with me?' Amroth pleaded with smiling eyes, and they mirrored the early stars that started to peep through the bare heavens.

An invitation to stroll in Lothlorien again; many times had Nimrodel trudged the Golden Wood with Amroth and many magnificent things were indeed to be found there. Amidst the torrents of darkness coming from Mordor, this city remained inviolate and fair and Nimrodel wondered at its strong foundation and resistance against Sauron's fleet.

'What is it that I shall find there, Amroth? In Lothlorien, beautiful jewels are to be found. Yet, have I not seen all, my lord?'

Then Amroth paused to ponder; a desire welled up in him to show something to the lady, it was for this reason that he had sought her today.

'Yes, Nimrodel. I shall show you the treasure of my mother. A mystical thing, it is. Come, let us be walking.' Amroth said earnestly as he made a motion to move away from the river. A distinct light shone on the pools of his grey, excited eyes.

'Lady Galadriel's treasure? What is it, Amroth? Are we not forbidden to see it?' Nimrodel uttered in surprise and slight fear and curiosity. She gave Amroth a glance as if to warn him of his plan. For the Lady Galadriel was not someone to be fooled; no less than the most powerful and noblest High that now walked Middle Earth.

'Nay, lady. She is my mother and I shall have the privilege to access her treasures.' Amroth reassured Nimrodel with clear confidence.

'Then I accept your offer, my lord.' Being convinced, Nimrodel smiled, her heart at ease. Forsooth, the thought of Galadriel's treasure ensnared her interest too and she longed to head for Lorien the fair at this moment.

Again that day, like most other, Nimrodel was a respectable guest of Lothlorien. And the people welcomed her with pleasure as one that won the heart of the kingdom's monarch. Indeed, the heart of Amroth had been long engaged to her and as of her own feelings for this, little was yet known if not vague and undecided.

Amroth led her to the Southern hedges in Lothlorien, then they followed a steno path that brushed by the green hill of Caras Galadhon. This was a remote area of Lorien and very few had permission to set foot on its soil. Even the elves of that race were sometimes inhibited to such actions, even though no official ban was made on it.

The two walked silently and as they did, a strange wind whistled. Nimrodel quivered a little; it was a wind that hadn't before graced her body. Amroth whispered a word of comfort to Nimrodel for he felt her fear heighten. After a comparatively long while the two were greeted by an enclosed garden. There were no golden trees that adorned the place: It was merely a flat space lying open underneath the Evening Star. A straight shaft of sunlight shot down around it and it shimmered with a subtle glory. Nimrodel's eyes widened in awe. Then, as though a force urged her, her vision was caught by the thing in middle of the garden; there a fountain stood made out of fine ivory. A spiritual aura seemed to lurk there and everything in sight seemed to subject itself to its glory. It struck her then, that this was the primary source of illumination or perhaps, the recipient of it.

'This is the Mirror of Galadriel; amazing art of Witchcraft is contained in it and so as immense power. For this is the light of Earendil which is used to parry away weariness and exhaustion. It has healing power and casts away darkness in time of dire need.' Amroth uttered solemnly with obvious pride. He, too, was taken away by the light of it.

'It is the fairest thing that I've seen to date. Not in my lifetime have I seen anything quite like it.' Nimrodel exhaled. She was breathless in a minute and too drawn by the cryptic power behind the fountain's water.

'But above all; it shows what is to be and what had come to pass. The present may be here also and yet, what is not can be told as well.' Amroth said in an ominously low voice, as if cautious not to be heard by stray ears from the East.

'Amroth, do you mean that I can see the future on the surface?' Nimrodel asked a wistful tone; fear mingled with her enthusiasm yet, she was more than glad to take a peep.

'Yes, and I wish too that you'll take a look at it.' Amroth answered and the graveness of his face was swept away by the same enthusiasm that vanquished the maiden Nimrodel.

'If you wish, my lord.'

Then Nimrodel stepped nigh, lifted herself up to gaze at the Mirror and faced the transparent water.

'Make yourself feel that you wanted to know your future; concentrate, lady dear.' Nimrodel heard Amroth's soft voice as the background that held them both began to fade in a single color of darkness. For a moment, a stupor locked around her and as she surveyed her surroundings, no image could be grasped by the eye. No small sound meandered about; everything had vanished besides her and the magical mirror. She clutched harder the lid of the fountain as if afraid that she'd be sucked by the seeming depth of it. Maybe she would be. Fear aroused to its highest point.

She inhaled in an attempt to gather momentum; the next second she would scream for help; yet again, she was restrained and her eyes were pulled to stay within the water. It struck her then that even if she called for aid, none would hear her. She was alone, alone amid this slithering green light, as the water whence it issued forth raged on. An image of something monstrous awake from the fountain and she saw a dreadful creature in it. A balrog, a legendary creature of darkness roared from the water; it shot out fireballs and threw them to an obscure something that later transformed into a ship. A white ship that bore people, her people; the elves. Tears would explode and fall down those benumbed cheeks. But louder than her weeping were the cries of the Elves in the image, they were incinerated by the arsenal of this wrathful creature that had been awakened from its protracted hibernation. It all occurred in a setting she knew so well; the Great River.

In panic, Nimrodel pulled herself away with all her might. As if conforming to her intention, the magnet of the mirror let her go. She dropped on her back on the dewy grass. Amroth hastened to her side and lifted her up. A groan was dying to explode out of her, though in her distress, nothing was did. She stood in shock; too distraught to emit a single reaction. She knew what was to befall on her now; she would burn along with her people because of that evil thing. Amroth too would be among the victims. For was it not his ship that was in the picture? That white ship that he built when he finally set sail to the havens; and it was his ultimate request that Nimrodel would go with him.

'Lady, what did you see?' Amroth asked her anxiously. Had he seen Nimrodel's distress? Was it not to obvious by the sweat that soaked her face now?

Nimrodel stayed still; she must not tell Amroth for no one knows what the latter would do. She strove to hide her fear of what she just saw, but she could not.

'Nothing, Amroth. I mean, just a vague display of something out of this world. A symbolism that I can't decipher.' Nimrodel lied and shook her head with utmost effort to sincerity. It was all for the best, she thought.

'I understand. The mirror is elusive and sometimes it does not say explicitly what we desire to see.' Amroth said gently and took Nimrodel by the arm. 'Anyhow, let us leave. It is time.' And both left the place and never returned to look at the mirror once more.

Nimrodel had never felt this troubled before; for now, she knew that that time was drawing near and that that very same thing would unfold once she accepted Amroth's offer to sail to the Havens to leave the Mortal shores. It was clear enough, and real enough. Nimrodel knew because she was just as wise to comprehend the omens of the image. From then on, she was torn; to tarry in Middle Earth or to try to go to the Havens and perish by the Balrog's fire. But seeing the future beforehand gave her choice to save herself and even Amroth from the dreadful tragedy that awaited them. They could actually escape from it, only if she informed Amroth. The question is, would she?

Right then she had decided her fate; none would be able to reverse it even if they had known. And indeed, she told this of no one and clung to her stuborn thoughts.

After some time…

Legolas raised his brow; a skeptic's glare swam across his gray eyes. His young face was taut and a scowl was about to materialize in it. It was hard to tell which stood out more in his expression; was it anger? was it lament?

'It is I whom you love; not Amroth. Why do you torment me like this? Do you not know what this shoice leaves me?' Legolas said, half pleading and half furious.

'I am entitled to choose for myself, my Lord. And sometimes, we have to admit that emotions are not a factor.' Nimrodel said. The firmness in her voice roused Legolas from his anger. She held her chin up and subsided her trembling.

'Then would you rather leave me and hurt even thyself in the process?'

'I do not mean to torture you.' Nimrodel protested as her eyes shivered with sadness.

Legolas said nothing. He could not coerce a Lady to choose what was in favor of him. He knew that it was he, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Woodland Realm, was the one whom Nimrodel loved. Amroth was more of an extraneous element in this love they had for each other. It was Nimrodel's courtesy alone not to offend Amroth that the latter found hope in his illusion and since he detected no sign of being rejected, he went on with his wooing. But what was not known to him was that Nimrodel's heart was already owned by Thranduil's son. Legolas delighted at this thought and this gave him due to be confident about Nimrodel's feelings. He was certain that nothing would come between her and him until Nimrodel, until now, until she took a dreadful peep at that the Mirror. For this reason she stood before Legolas now, apologizing, telling him that she would go with Amroth in the Havens and thus, marry him there. Legolas' surprise was beyond recognition, though his grief was less inexplicable. He had loved and was loved in return and now, though it was still the case, abandonment was his only fate.

'You do not mean to torture me? Yet I marvel at the fact that you would leave me forever and worse, for someone else you do not have any feelings for.' Legolas said derisively and inhaled the air in much the same manner. Everything seemed cruel to him now, even the air that passed through his lungs was bitter.

It was Nimrodel's turn to be silent. Oh, if only she could tell him her intentions. She sat pensively on the rock beside the river and as she watched the silver stream, she realized the extreme magnitude of loneliness that until then remained concealed from her knowledge. She was going to miss everything in Middle Earth, and this creature before him not the less. Without knowing, a tiny crystal of tear coursed down from her eyes like a jewel on a leaf, and fell without a sound. As she looked up Legolas, too, was weeping in the same painful silence.

'I cannot tell you why I'm choosing this fate when I could've wedded you instead. You are right, I do not love Amroth for he had that yearning for the West, whereas I am glad to remain here, yet…' Nimrodel faltered.

'Yet what?' Legolas muttered in strangled notes. He was mourning, crying for himself as much as for Nimrodel.

'Yet…I can only give myself to you and that's why I'm leaving.' Nimrodel said quietly. The tears did not stop. None knew if it was ever going to.

'I do not understand you altogether. But listen here, I know that I am the only one in your heart and though you are leaving, you could be in peace in the thought that you are the only one in mine. In a few hours' time, you will be buoyed up to the West--' Legolas was cut short.

'Legolas, please.' Nimrodel cried.

'Yes, you will be seeing all these for the last time and you will be leaving with Amroth in a few hours. This is our final parting; you came here to bid me farewell. That I understand now…' Legolas' words trailed off. 'Yes, dear lady, you can take your leave of me. If this is your choice, to wed him and not I, I fully accept it. Goodbye.' Legolas cast his eyes down. More tears flowed down and more weeping would follow even after Nimrodel left.

'Then, you're letting me go?' Nimrodel said. The sound of Legolas' surrender was a pain that would remain for all of her remaining short days.

'Yes. I am; for what am I to tell a lady what to do? Goodbye now.' Legolas spoke without a note to reprimand the other but more like to stir her conscience.

'Thank you for understanding, my lord.' Nimrodel said finally. It was a form of apology in disguise which could not be understood, much less pardoned. Both's pain was absorbed, consumed, but not really altogether dispensed with. With intense difficulty, what they dreaded most would come to pass. And there would be no comfort for the sadness it would bring them, that would result from it, nor would there be consolation to be found in their parting words.

Hence they wept together for a time and clutched each other's hand, until they finally let go to be parted forever. Thus Nimrodel said goodbye to Legolas Greenleaf, whom she loved a she did no one.

For a while, Nimrodel was alone and waited for the escort who would bear her to Amroth's ship. Amroth was waiting in the south of the River where his vessel was stationed. A little earlier that day, his bride asked for his permission to bid farewell to someone. Amroth agreed and told her to take care. Perhaps he knew that it was Legolas, the other suitor, whom she would seek. He did not forestall her.

The maiden who was to fetch Nimrodel arrived in a short while, surprised as she came upon the grievous Nimrodel.

'Let us wait for a while, I want to savor the beauty of this place for the last time.' Nimrodel told her escort with an importuning glance.

'As you wish, my Lady.'

And they waited. Nimrodel looked around with a hollow mind; she did not care anymore. All this will end in before long. The choice she made would serve its purpose and the dreadful tragedy that was foretold by the Mirror would overtake her, eat her, end her. As she chose, she opted not to change her destiny; she would perish by the flames of that dark creature. She mused and never moved from that place, ever letting the time to stretch in a seeming eternity.

Havoc screamed out from the far mountains. Fire devoured the hills above. From where she sat, death threatened to be at close and there were Elves running everywhere in a rough and tussle struggle. As they passed her, tidings were given that a ship had been burned near the mouth of the river and she knew that the fire had Amroth and the White Ship that he prepared for her. All that Nimrodel witnessed in the Mirror of Galadriel began to transpire in reality. The panicked Elves she met persuaded her to run for shelter with them. She waved them off, saying that she would wait. For what, she never really got around to telling. Her escort, however, had the more logical thing in mind; she would go with the elves. Thus they left her, seeing that she was not to be shaken. Presently the quake of the Balrog's strides became more audible, more alive, more real. Nimrodel did not move. She knew it was near, her intentions almost to its fulfillment. Amroth was dead and she had deceived him. But she would not betray the noble spirit of that Prince. Henceforward she would disappear from the World, with him.

'This is my choice.' Nimrodel released her final words as the Balrog that woke up from Moria caught up with her.

Centuries passed…

It all happened in the second millennium of the Third Age. Many songs were composed for the anguish of the star crossed lovers, Nimrodel and Amroth, King of Cerin Amroth. Both were lost and were never seen again. But local legends had it that the voice of Nimrodel could be heard calling out to Amroth. However, when the wind blew South, it was Amroth's voice that could be heard, shouting the name of his love. Yes, the river Nimrodel echoed both Nimrodel and Amroth's voices. Their voices sounded like they were searching for one another but without much success.

Legolas would sit by the river to listen to these spectral sounds, trying to make them out, and many times they never failed him. More than a thousand years had passed and through all those centuries within, he would consistently and frequently visit the river shore just to hear his beloved's voice, though it called to someone else's name. This he barely minded. He would shed a tear or two and recollections would come flooding by to bring more remorse and sad memories to him. He had lost a lot and his wounds never healed, nor would. Once satisfied, Legolas would stand up and paradoxically, secretly, leave with a smile.

'So they still haven't found their way to each other?' Legolas would ask himself and answer his own tricky question. 'No, they'd never really find each other; they'd never be together at all.'

He had understood then why Nimrodel settled for this fate; she intended not to choose between Legolas and Amroth at all. And to attain neutrality she decided to have it this way: to be left with no alternative. She was wise, always wise, Legolas thought as he walked away from the River Nimrodel. But more than that, Legolas learned that Nimrodel's greatest love lay not in him, but in that River where she abode for long years. For even if her body could no longer be found, one could tell that she never quite left the waters of Nimrodel, or ever meant to. Her voice still lingered there; if she wedded either Amroth or Legolas, it would mean her separation from this dear paradise she called home. In a way, Nimrodel won over all of them: She became the River she loved most.

Legolas told this story to many of his people, and it became a subject of many songs, achieving a legend status, and lore in the kingdom of Mirkwood. This is the same tale he narrated in the Fellowship during their entrance to Lothlorien: the story of the maiden Nimrodel, his dearly beloved.

END

A/N: Thank you very much for reading. This is unedited so please pardon the errors. Feel free to leave comments, I'll sure appreciate it; flames would be welcome too. Have a nice day. Ciao!


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